Blasted Emotions Hurt More Than the Skrewts
by coleytaylor
Summary: In which Telemain gets hurt, and Morwen bandages him up. So, the usual. Scorn also features, but only her; I couldn't justify Morwen having any more than one cat at Hogwarts.


Unsurprisingly, blast-ended skrewts did not take kindly to being experimented upon. It didn't matter that Telemain had invented a whole new method that would, in theory, contain their fire absolutely. The beasts weren't exactly fond of magical theory, and they had no qualms about stinging his hands and arms repeatedly. He hadn't taken the full features of the skrewts into account when he had planned this, really. Telemain had been so excited upon finishing his theory that he had bolted out of the Hogwarts library and down to the pen where the beasts were being kept, remembering only that they made fire.

At least he hadn't been burned. The fact that his spell had in fact worked was cold comfort to the smarting wounds all over his forearms. He couldn't exactly stroll into the hospital wing like this. He could get Hagrid fired if Madam Pomfrey made the connection and mentioned it in the wrong company. So, as much as he hated to bother her, there was only Morwen.

The last time he had gotten himself into trouble, she had led him back with her to the Hufflepuff dorms to patch him up. He made his way there now. Just the thought of seeing Morwen was enough to buoy his spirits slightly. There was something about the red-haired witch that made him feel _good_. Maybe it was the fact that she actually listened to his long-winded and complicated explanations when none of his Ravenclaw friends did. Maybe it was that wry smile that always rose to her face when she was fixing his various injuries.

He thought himself quite lucky to catch Morwen on her way out of the Hufflepuff common room. He wasn't sure he had it in him at the moment to find his own way in. They made eye contact, he lifted his hands to show her the damage, and she sighed and turned back around, beckoning him to follow.

"You know, there is more to my life than healing you," she said, once Telemain was seated in an armchair next to the fire, and she was busy digging for ingredients. The other Hufflepuffs had seen him around often enough not to be alarmed at his presence.

"There is not really more to _my_ life than magical theory experiments," he admitted.

"This might sting a little." She dabbed at his arm with a cloth saturated with something yellowish. It did sting, very much.

"Ahhh, Morwen, oh gods." He was trying not to writhe with the pain. Really trying.

She frowned at him. "You ought to be more careful with these things."

That was what he liked so much about Morwen. Everyone else told him to stop his ridiculous experiments, but she only urged him to exercise more caution in them. He tried not to like how she brushed away the little tendrils of hair that escaped the carefully magicked pile on top of her head, or the lines of worry that would crease her forehead whenever she saw how badly he was hurt.

"I know."

They locked eyes, and Telemain's breath caught in his throat. This was all wrong, and this was exactly why he couldn't let these ludicrous feelings come to light. As it was, he didn't have many friends, and it wouldn't do to lose the only one who knew how to bandage him up. But he couldn't look away, and a charge between them was mounting-like the buildup for a convoluted enchantment, almost tangible-and he had always been better with books than girls.

The variable that decided the outcome of the situation was not, in the end, Telemain's social skills, but Scorn, Morwen's beloved cat. Scorn leapt up on his lap, and the spell was broken. She rubbed against his injured arms, almost easing the pain of whatever Morwen had applied as a disinfectant.

Now they glanced bashfully at each other and at the cat, and even though Telemain hadn't yet finished his research on wandless legilimency, he was almost positive Morwen was busy dismissing the same thoughts as he was.

He wondered whether it would be prudent to try to engineer some plan for them, for Morwen and Telemain, if that was what he wanted them to be. It would take work, a different kind of work than he was accustomed to, but it could yield incredible results. He had heard enough Celestina Warbeck songs to know that love-he stopped himself at this, and then started back up again because _yes_ , this was exactly what he meant-was far more complicated than any web of magic he could imagine.

" _Tergeo_ ," Morwen muttered, prodding the cloth with her wand. "That should keep it from getting infected. I can grab some bandages, too, unless you want to show off your battle scars." Her voice was heavy with disapproval.

"I was under the impression that girls found this sort of thing attractive," he said, only partly joking.

She raised her eyebrows incredulously. "I'll get the bandages."

Telemain sat back and scratched Scorn's ears. The cat purred contentedly, leaning into his touch. He took that as her approval. He was glad to have it.


End file.
